Together Forever
by Shipping Rates Apply
Summary: From their first meeting to their first child. From his supposed demise to his return from the brink. From his Risen-Riding-Wolves to whether or not she used Frogs or Toads. Their love is as unstoppable as a Twitching Sword Hand and as unforgettable as a wandering girl from the Ruins of Time. Though their love wasn't always perfect, that imperfection was proof it was genuine.
1. Premonition: Coming Back

Read and Enjoy!

Synopsis: The battle is over. At long last Grima has fallen. Unfortunately for Chrom and the Shepherds, their victory was bittersweet. Their tactician had fallen to save them and the future. As he fades into non-existence, would his memories be proof of the invisible ties that will return him back to his world?

* * *

Premonition: Coming Back

It was over.

The smoke cleared and Grima faded away to nothingness. After striking with Mjölnir's holy thunder, he felt proud. To choose the lives of millions over his own was nothing short of heroic. Slowly, his body began to fade as what Naga had predicted. He _was _Grima after all. If he killed himself, he would cease to exist. It was that simple.

Only when he saw the sadness in Chrom's eyes did guilt begin to run in his thoughts. The Grandmaster of Ylisse knew he betrayed Chrom's request that he instead would deal the final blow and send Grima back to another slumber. But to bear the burden of fostering a future where the Fell Dragon would wake once more and wreak havoc, he'd rather die than curse his children's children to another battle with that monster. Especially since he had the power to stop it once and for all.

Chrom, the only man who stood by him through the all thickest of troubles, was next to him, shocked at what he had done. The Exalt knew that his friend had done the right thing, but deep in his thoughts, he truly wished he didn't. He did not feel Falchion's hilt slip away from his grip; its ring echoed after hitting the scales on the now dead dragon's neck.

"Mark! No!" He started to walk towards his friend but the he stopped him with a raised palm. There was nothing he could do; the deed was done and the time of farewells had begun.

"Thank you Chrom, for everything..." Mark began as the last moments of his existence finally arrived. Chrom snapped back to attention and saw a sad but gentle smile. Mark was serene and his voice was calm as if he was, at the very least, consoling his friend, telling him that he had no regrets. "Tell the others, my last thoughts…were of them…"

Chrom nodded and held back tears, still showing that regal strength that he had admired and seen when they took the fight to Gangrel. Farther along the dragon's back, his companions—no, his _friends_—stood, frozen in time with jaws agape and eyes wide. Although all they saw was a gigantic strike of lighting that struck what was the Fell Dragon's head, they knew what had occurred.

"May we meet again…in a better…life…" He said, losing all strength to say more. His time in their world was up and it was time for him to go.

Chrom yelled at the gods for this twist of fate. For him, the feelings of sorrow not seen since Exalt Emmeryn's supposed demise finally overcame him.

Mark wished he would stop grieving because he would not have that, at least not now for it would hurt him more. He felt his sensations and strength fading but he can still hear everything around him. He only heard the winds from above roar, but eventually it was overwhelmed by footsteps.

Footsteps. Running footsteps amongst the silent Shepherds. He thought it was strange but as the steps grew louder, he knew. Running along the nape of Grima's neck was his wife and two children. His sights were already blurred; he only saw his family as moving blobs and his heart (Which he knew still existed) ached. He realized that this was his punishment for leaving his family alone. To sacrifice himself would be to no longer see the family he cherished.

He found it strangely funny that all of the things occurring right now reminded him of a book. It reminded him of a novel that he and Sumia once read about a Magvelian hero who succumbed to the control of a terrible demon. Despite losing himself, he would try his best to steer his friends towards the path of his own destruction. And before he passed on to the afterlife, all he saw were the pained faces of the friends he loved who slayed him.

When that thought came, he felt like crying but did not know if tears fell. Soon, his vision yielded to blindness. He would not see his daughter wipe her eyes constantly with the sleeves of the robe she inherited nor would he see his son's head lowered and embracing her younger sister, holding back the tears and the pain that his father was to leave him again once more. But worst of all, he would not see the red eyes of his wife and her sad begging of him to never leave, tears constantly running down her cheeks.

As a final act of farewell, he mustered whatever strength he had to wave at them, still wearing that sad smile. He kept smiling for one reason only: hope. The hope he will return and teach his daughter the lessons he learned and to watch her grow into a tactician that will surpass him; the hope he will stay and laugh with his son and the theatrics he makes with his "untamable" sword hand. But most of all, the hope he would see that not-so delicate princess he loved so much. She would miss the rubbery thing he does with his face the most and he would miss her snorting laughter.

Guilt truly raged in his mind when he remembered his wedding vows. He promised her that they would have a great life together and that the two of them will grow old together surrounded by their children and grandchildren. Together forever. His heart felt like exploding when he realized couldn't keep his promise.

All he wished was to see her smile once more before fading away just so his heart would be eased, even in the smallest way. Instead he would hear a heartbreaking yell.

"MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARK!"

Despite the sorrow it brought, it was enough. He knew he was loved.

* * *

_The benefit of destroying yourself with the Fell Dragon? Saving the world and remembering some key things from your past that had been removed by a time-travelling dragon god of destruction. The not-so beneficial part? Seeing those sad faces as your final memory._

At least that's one way he would put it. After all, he'd probably have the rest of eternity contemplating his "technical suicide".

Nothingness was truly an amazing but lonely experience. He felt—no—he _knew_ he was alive but not in the world he wanted to be in. All around him was pitch black but he could see his hands clearly when he held them out in front of him. He would walk, but it would lead to no destination. He wondered when he last ate but did not feel hunger. He did not feel the need for sleep either. Only when he started thinking how a dark place could be lit up without a source of light did his brain begin hurting. Pain. That was a good sign. He checked what he wore and still had his Grandmaster clothes made by the Ylissean tailors and his trademark robe from the Grimleal. He even found Mjölnir tucked neatly in his robe and Balmung's blade sheathed. But when he tried to cast a spell from the book, nothing came.

While walking around and reading his tome, he perked up and paused. And then he remembered. Not the hours that passed, no. He remembered. Everything. Well, _almost _everything.

Some memories flooded his mind as if he had known them all along; there was no headache and no complications. He remembered the loving mother he had that stole him away from the Grimleal. He remembered he had the most normal of childhoods and he had loved books longer that he could ever remember. He even remembered the feeling of loss when she disappeared without a trace when they went to Regna Ferox. He remembered that she was the reason why he sung those songs to the now infant Owain.

Then he remembered something new. He remembered the answer to the most obvious question: where did he learn the swordplay and magic that managed to help Chrom during their first meeting?

It was from Erk and Lyndis; some of the strongest warriors from Elibe. He had travelled from the Outrealms after his mother had vanished and journeyed with them the entire time at a young age. Erk taught him all the incantations to summon Anima spells while Lyndis taught him how to wield swords in order to defend himself if his tome breaks from overuse. His experiences in Elibe did explain a lot of the things. For the most part, fighting the fire dragon at the Dragon's Gate explained his surprise at the existence of the Manakete and Nowi.

With that, he thought of going to the Outrealms and visiting Elibe once he returned…only if Old Hubba would not flirt with his wife. Oddly enough, he was more worried about the old man more than his wife. Not because of what he would do, but because of what Owain and Morgan _will_ do.

Nevertheless, he wondered when and doubted if he'll ever return to the world he loved. Naga said if their bonds were strong enough, it would be enough for him to return back to the world. But he wondered if the bonds he had was deep enough with every Shepherd he met.

His bonds with Chrom were that of brothers. Probably even stronger than that as Tiki had told him that his bond with the Exalt transcended those of blood brothers. Mark was there for his wedding, becoming the best man although through the expense of a slightly uncomfortable Libra, mainly because of the Grimleal cloak he wore. He was there for all his troubling times and he was there for all of his. From Emmeryn's sacrifice and Walhart's conquest to saving the Merchant Annas and meeting the Radiant Hero's descendant, Priam. Chrom was there from his worst tactical failure to his familial connections with Validar. Even though his past dictated sinister origins, Chrom did not care. He was his friend and it was likewise. If anyone could bring him out of this lonely world, it would be him.

Mark then remembered the times when he and Gaius would sneak around the royal castle and "borrow but not return" candies that Lissa had, even long after they were wed. The two often created complex—and sometimes nonsensical—plans to just get her out of her tent so Gaius can sneak in and take the candies. Surprisingly, some of those shenanigans were to Mark's benefit as well.

He would even remember the time when all the male Shepherd members would drink at Regna Ferox's taverns and he would laugh at the times when Vaike and Gregor challenged each other to manly bouts of drinking. He remembered, although regretted, the time when he took up their challenge and it ended with him waking up at the tallest tree in the village to the point he needed Cordelia to rescue him like a trapped cat.

He chuckled at the time he took Donnel shopping for the ring he would eventually give Nowi and in exchange, he would teach him how to trap rabbits for food (Although Panne did not speak to him for weeks after succeeding for the first time.).

But what he remembered most were the times he and Lissa spent. Pranking was the first thing that always came to his mind. He remembered the first time she gave him a massage and it ended with a toad down his coat (Lissa insisted it was a frog) and how he got her back by switching her staff with an intricately disguised ladle. He remembered the fight they had about how reckless he got when he fought Excellus and Cervantes. He remembered the first time he fell in love with her when they returned the frogs (toads, he would still call) to the pond. Lissa revealed everything to him then, like how Chrom always bullied her and her pigtails and how Emmeryn was always babying her. She even told him the reason why she hated to be called a "delicate princess", even though she showed her most delicate side to him. He remembered their first kiss, the birth of their first child Owain and the arrival of his time-travelling future version. Even Morgan, who wasn't even born yet when Owain arrived, came as a pleasant surprise and her sprightly and bubbly attitude would be ingrained in their hearts.

But despite all of those precious memories, all he felt as he wandered the darkness was the exact same situation when Grima spirited him away from his friends as he tried to kill him. A strange thought came across his head, would he count as Risen if he returns? What about a Deadlord? He cringed at that thought, seeing that's something Henry would say.

He simply laid on the ground, thinking with his eyes closed shut. He moved his arms around and felt the grass he lay in and the warm breeze that gently tickled his face.

_Grass? A breeze?_

* * *

Mark heard the muffled footsteps approaching him. He also heard the sound of armor lightly clanking. He wondered what this would be; he was alone after all.

"Chrom, we have to do SOMETHING."

And it clicked.

_Oh, it's just a memory of the first time we met._

"What do you propose we do, huh?" Chrom said, looking at his sister.

_Wait, how come I didn't have this kind of sensation happen to me while I was remembering everything else?_

Lissa stammered nervously. "I-I dunno…"

Mark eyes fluttered open and saw that his nothingness changed to _that_ moment at the field near Southtown. The same blue skies and the same two people. He took the time to remember when he saw Lissa for the first time and though it wasn't love at first sight, the memories he made in the far future reminded him of what he loved the most about her. How her hair looks adorable when she had it on those pigtails, and how she had that funny twitch on her nose when she had an idea coming.

"I see you're awake now." Chrom noticed him looking at Lissa, earning him a very subtle glare but eventually giving way to a smile. Lissa was rather surprised to see that he was awake.

"Hey there!" Lissa giggled as she gleefully leaned closer, her nose subtly twitching.

_Gods, she's still as adorable as ever._

Although he did not notice the twitch.

"There are better places to take a nap than on the ground you know." Chrom extended his hand out to him. It was _exactly _like the first time they all met. "Give me your hand."

_Let's relive this memory. I don't mind spending the rest of eternity repeating this._

But when he reached out to meet Chrom's open palm, he noticed something very peculiar. The Mark of Grima was no longer on his hand.

_Wait…I should still have the Mark! Unless—_

Before he could even finish his thought. Chrom pulled him up with a firm but gentle grip.

"Welcome back. It's over now."

At first he was speechless, believing it to be a simple dream. But as he played Chrom's words over and over in his mind, he knew it was true. The fact that the wind blew strong and he felt it hit him, only enforced that his bonds were indeed strong enough. All he could do was look in awe at his best friend and wife, dispelling the thought that this would be the third time he awoke on an empty field.

_I'm back…I'm back…_

"I'm back!"

* * *

**A/N:**

Oh. My. Stars. I finally achieved my first FanFiction! I should give myself an award! But seriously. Agchk! First FanFiction on Awakening. Aghhghgh. #fangirlisms

Looks like I have a bit of explaining to do here.

I decided to rename good 'ol Robin as Mark from Fire Emblem: The Blazing Sword, since for me, my Canon Oh-Tee-Pee is RobinxLucina. The reason why I chose to turn these characters into the same person because, well at the "Yo-Let's-Recruit-Lyn" DLC, Lyn was basically saying "Dude, you woke up on an empty field. I remember you. Amnesia? K. Look the same? K. You were my tactician." and tah-dah, a very interesting plot point that does me (and some people) great justice for Mark's unknown history.

With that opportunity, I decided to tackle MUxLissa because this allowed a bit of freedom around Lissa and MU's love. Their supports were so adorable but it lacked substance that I hope I can fully define and refine.

Also, if anyone remembers that photo where MU, Lissa, Owain and Morgan were posing like superheroes. That just made me "Egad".

So go for it! I'd love to hear you responses and critiques!

**EDITS: 6/13/12 - Alright, fixed some of THE MOST OBVIOUS TYPOS ON THE PLANET and added a bit of expansion and rephrasing. GOD NEPTUNE WHY. LIKE HOW DID I USE ROBIN INSTEAD OF MARK. CURSE YOU CANON-ISMS.**


	2. Premonition: Pigtails and Rubbery Faces

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Synopsis: Her feelings after a year's worth of uncertainty. The guilt he felt in the shortest of moments. And they were ready to let it all out.

* * *

Premonition: Pigtails and Rubbery Faces

"Please don't tell me we're actually near Southtown." Doubt entered the tactician's mind; nothing was ever that easy. Or coincidental.

If he were to describe what happened in percentages, there was a ninety-nine percent chance of him never returning and he was the one percent probability. Was it a dream? That possibility was immediately tossed out the window after he felt Chrom's strong grip pull him up and that felt as real as it could get. What about the words they said? It was obviously not from a replayed memory. And their looks? Gods, he had to admit he can't find a shred of evidence of Chrom aging, let alone Lissa (though the changes he knows about her are more private). With that in mind, he would say that they aged quite gracefully, even with the stresses of two wars. But there were so many variables and issues with his return that his thoughts were that of a headless chicken running about.

"We're actually in the castle courtyard." Chrom smiled and pulled his friend into a brisk hug. "The groundskeeper was planting daisies until he saw you lying down on one patch. You just appeared out of nowhere, he said." He began to chuckle. "When the he told me, I couldn't believe it. I rushed to Lissa and the moment she heard the news, we ran."

Mark sighed in relief. At least with everything happening at the courtyard, that further enforces the fact that he's back in his world and not in some—as he would call it—"oblivion construct". Though one question begged to be asked.

"How…" He took a deep breath. "How long was I gone?" Chrom's face expressed sternness though Mark saw it as grim. This would not sound good.

"Over a year." The Exalt sighed and Mark looked at him wide-eyed. "Everyone tried looking for you wherever we thought you could end up in. Hell, _Walhart_ personally took the initiative to look for you in Valm. But over the months," And Chrom's tone grew melancholic. "It really felt like we were chasing our own tails."

Mark was at an absolute loss. Why in Naga a full year? He felt that his time in oblivion lasted, at most, a full day. Though without any way of telling time in there, he was never certain. Even so, he returned to them after near impossible odds and all he did was lie down and attempt to sleep. If he had tried to do that earlier, could he have gotten out sooner? He felt he had put an immense amount of stress on his companions. Gods, he didn't even want to know the amount of resources it cost to look for him.

But it all subsided when he saw his Ylissean princess in her yellow dress. The steel skirt frame she usually donned was no longer there, allowing the dress to flow down naturally. He smirked at the fact she still kept her pigtails and it Mark always wondered how she kept it like that, especially with how surprisingly lazy she is with everything else. He felt his heart melt at seeing her bashfully tapping her boots together. Knowing her, she would jump and tackle him down, emblazoning his face with kisses at any moment (which he expected) yet didn't. Instead, she quickly buried her face on his chest. The subtle jumps on her shoulders and the heat of her breath warming up his cotton shirt was a dead giveaway; she was about to cry.

At first he didn't understand. He acted in the best interests of everyone (and would be glad to do it again if he had to). Then he felt the disgusting shred of guilt as he remembered her on that dragon's back.

Though Chrom was never known for his ability to read situations, he knew what he had to do after everything began to unfold. After all, Mark had given him the same courtesy between him and Sumia; it was only just to return the favor. As Lissa nuzzled Mark's chest, Chrom looked straight into his friend's eyes and nodded. Mark never said a word, but he gave his friend a short smile and returned his attention to his wife.

With a sort of regal flair, Chrom turned his back on the couple and returned to the palace, leaving the two of them under the high sun and the daisies in the courtyard. Their—as Vaike would phrase it— "man-to-man talk" can wait until later.

Finally alone, the princess spoke. Mark felt the vibrations of her voice through his coat and it tickled him. She was angry. At least, that's how he described it.

"I thought Chrom told you do not do something THAT stupid. What were you thinking?" She doted.

"If it was to keep you and our family safe for the next few eternities," He wrapped his sleeved arms around her small body. Lissa felt his arms tighten around her. It did not constrict nor was it too loose. She felt safe. "I'd be glad to do it again."

"Did you forget you're my _husband_? You promised we'd be together forever." She squeezed her grip on his shirt tighter. He closed his eyes and smiled. His nose was tickled by one of her pigtails. Lavender, he smelled from her hair.

"Love makes you do stupid things, right?" He let out a soft chuckle and she pounded on his chest.

"You're so lame." She didn't mean it. Lissa felt the heat rise to her cheeks once more after a year. She loved the man with all her being and his lameness was one of his most attractive points.

"That's why I did it." And he was honest.

Silence came over again. Still locked in their embrace, they both gently fell to their knees onto the soft grass. She quickly released her grip from his shirt and wrapped her arms around his neck, vowing to never ever let go. Their heads gently touched and leaned on each other like the roof of a house. Against the breezy Ylissean spring, they felt each other's warmth and relished in it. Mark took to rocking themselves side to side for a short moment.

Lissa basked in the presence of her beloved husband, although she had the urge of putting something inside his shirt; all their well-meaning prank wars were as just as important as any smooches and compliments between lovers. She swore to get him back at this; after all, no one makes her cry like that and gets away with it.

For months, she sang lullabies that let her baby sleep easy at night. She nursed the infant by herself, refusing to allow some wet-nurse to take over her natural duty as a parent. For months, she entertained her son from a future so grim and gave him the love that he never had the chance to have. Heck, she finally named her staff "Twitchy", after her son's often used battle cry (though it was acceptable, it was still to the Scion of Legend's chagrin). She cried with her amnesiac daughter when they thought the man they loved so dear died. She took her to trips around Ylisse, showing her the halidom that her father treasured. Although Morgan did not have any memories of her, Lissa strove to create new memories with her daughter to make up for those she lost.

She kissed and hugged all her children and she stood by their side when everything looked so bright yet felt so bleak and incomplete.

Lissa did her best to keep those feelings under her infallible sprightliness through the months. Even so, she was also human. She had feelings too. Without Mark by her side and his return uncertain, she felt that a part of her had been ripped out. It was just as bad—no—_worse _than Emmeryn jumping from Plegia Castle. And she hated him for it. For months, she had no shoulder to lean on to. She had no one to cry to—even Maribelle was unable to bear the weight of everything happening to her friend. Even with the amount of suitors that came by Ylisse after the first two months, she never considered remarriage despite feeling terribly lonely. She knew no one could ever replace Mark and that rubbery thing she found incredibly attractive. She was first to never lose hope when he was gone and first to proudly to say: "My husband saved the damn world! We'll find him soon!" every time a blasted suitor came to her and offered marriage and happiness.

That moment, she was at her most delicate but she was stronger than any fort ever made in Ylisse, Ferox or Valm.

"How much did I miss?" He finally said. Lissa's chest tightened. Though the urge to say "not much" came, she never sugarcoated anything.

"You missed Owain's first words." Her voice was but a murmur yet he heard it as clear as day.

Mark bit his lip. "What did he say?"

"Papa." And her voice began to shiver and break; the fort she had built for one year had finally begun to fall. A year's worth of uncertainty, fear, sadness and hope began crashing down with shoulders convulsing and tears finally flowing. Her soft palms combed through his dark brown hair as if to make sure that he wasn't some illusion.

As she cried, Mark heard her say his name. But not from that moment. Rather, it was the moment before he "left". Like a broken record, it looped in his mind. A years' worth of memories were gone before him and he could do nothing to get those memories. He gritted his teeth, holding himself back. No words would come from his mouth as no explanation or excuse will be enough. All he could do was promise to stay by her side, his children's side and make the most of every moment for as long as he breathes. And that was it for Mark. He did not whimper or yell but embraced his wife tighter. The first drop of tears finally flowed down his cheeks after a long, long time.

"I was so scared…I thought…you'd be gone…forever." She managed to say in between her sobs.

He knew it wasn't enough but he still said it, "I'm so sorry, Lissa…I really am."

And then, there were no words left to say.

* * *

Chrom saw everything from the door to the courtyard; Sumia, his beloved wife, was next to him, holding his hand. When he saw Mark embrace Lissa, it reminded him so much of Emmeryn he couldn't help but smile.

"When Lissa found out about Mark coming back, I expected," He cringed, despite knowing for years that his best friend was already married to his sister. "Something a bit more violent. Something less—I don't know—_romantic_?"

Sumia giggled. Her husband was never one for lovey-dovey things, unless it was between himself and her. "Like what?"

"Stomping his foot? Punching him? A slap maybe?"

And she sighed. "Well, I think Lissa would probably do something like that later."

"She _will_." And the royal couple laughed.

"Let's leave them alone. They have a lot of catching up to do."

When grandfathers tell the tales of men and women who willingly gave their life for others, they always describe their return with the utmost emphasis in camaraderie and love. The heroes who return to their brothers-and-sisters-in-arms were always met with welcoming brotherhood and sisterhood accompanied by clanking jugs of ale. While those one who return to their families would see the tearful, yet joyful, cries of their spouse and feel the warm embrace of their children.

On the courtyard where gentle gusts and soft sobs were the only sounds, husband and wife shed tears for something they both lost and finally found.

* * *

**A/N:**

How'd you like the new title change? And looks like I'll be continuing this and I have every intention of finishing two arcs that I have planned out and (hopefully) foreshadowed during the first Premonition chapter. Though my releases will actually be choppy. I have my job, a daughter to raise and games to play.

Also. English to learn. This language man. The struggle is real.

Anyhow, there will be three parts to the Premonition chapter. To be honest, I was hoping to bundle it up into two and this FELT SHORT, but my proofreaders and (gods forbid, my boss at my engineering firm) said this exactly. "Shorten the length, man! I can't read this giant pile of words in one sitting!"

Okay, not exactly like this. There was like seven cursewords here and there and four inside jokes. Nevertheless.

Arght! This chapter. Was. A. Toughie. I had two versions of this: A "funny-yet-sweet" version and this "drama-and-sweet" version. Now I went to the drama and sweet with this one because it connects with the previous part better but since I usually write comedy, I tried. So. Hard. To be as NON-COMEDIC as I can. I wanted to get into Lissa's head much more in-depth as well. But since I had to lead off from a Mark-Centric chapter. It kicked my ass.

Why did I allow newborn Owain to exist, although one of my readers pointed it out that Lucy was the only one born? Eh, makes the moments better. That and he'd prove somewhat pivotal in defining the family relationships same with baby Morgernss. At least that's how baby Owain is supposed to fulfill his role. Gaius chapters? Shenanigans? Maybe.

If I didn't and kept dishing out properly written stuff, my daughter and I will fly to America for three weeks, go to Disney Land and Universal after like five chapters (Which is like five to eight weeks) as a reward for myself. Like seriously. I will. But don't sugar-buttercoat reviews.

Also, should I convert this into an actual "Life After Grima" with flashback Paralogue-esque chapters? Like, I think we have one "Life after Grima" fiction already.  
Or should I turn this into a "Disheveled one-shot collection of this pairing and their life as a family" fiction?

Okay, enough bantering from me.

**I NEED YOUR CRITICISMS. I LIVE OFF OF PEOPLE PUNISHING ME FOR MY TERRIBLE ENGLISH!**

**EDIT: Thirty Minutes After Release. Okay. I'm seriously going to catch Typos AFTER publishing. Great. Just my luck.**

**EDIT2: ６月１７日 - チクショウ。なぜレリーズのあと、オレがもう文法的な誤りを見つけある？！ジャマああああああああああああああああああああああああ！！！！**


	3. Final: Twitching Hands and Lost Memories

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Synopsis: Being siblings means you stick together when times are tough. And "tough times" is a broad subject. It's not everyday when your mother thinks she's "found" an expert strategist wearing a mask and holding a book that seemed all so familiar.

* * *

Final Premonition: Twitching Hands and Lost Memories

Ylisstol Library had one of the most extensive collection of books and scrolls in the entire halidom. Ranging from cooking and sewing to military tactics, it was a smorgasbord of a millennium's worth of information. Scholars, knowledge hunters, and even farmers came far and wide in order to access the library and satisfy their curiosities, often learning something new.

For one sheepish tactician-in-training, the convenience of living at Ylisstol Palace meant she didn't have to travel far for this coveted collection of information. All the information of the library was free access; a perk for being part of the exalted bloodline. After all, if the blonde hair and fact that her brother Owain would sometimes tag along couldn't prove that she was of royal blood, the Mark of the Exalt on the back of her hand did.

On one of the desks near the tactics and history section, the young woman wearing a Plegian cloak that was obviously too big for her hoisted a full stack of books from the shelf and carried it to the desk. Dust flew as she set the books down with a thud. She flinched at the noise she made and quickly glanced behind her. No one was there and she sighed in relief.

Silence was strictly observed in the library out of absolute respect for the information gathered around them. Though mostly it was out of fear from the librarian. The librarian, a young woman known as Priscilla, had no tolerance if silence was _ever_ broken. Whether it was a whistle or a pin drop, Priscilla's anger at the source of the noise was worse than a wyvern on musth. Hopefully, she prayed, Priscilla was not working that day.

She sat down and opened the first book on the stack. She eyed the thickness of the book; a mere three hundred page piece was nothing to Morgan. The books she and her father read were much thicker, reaching into the thousands. She flipped to the first page and read the preface.

_Imagine a river, wild and untamed. Powerful. One man cannot manage to control something of that magnitude alone. Yet when farmers dig a canal from the river, its power weakens. It becomes separated from the powerful flow, becoming a gentle trickle to irrigate the fields…_

Her eyes went through every sentence and paragraph faster than a griffon on a swan dive.

_That is warfare. The concept of warfare is a method of isolation, manipulation, and its eventual control of the battlefield. In this volume, we will explore several documents of war from varying lores. This introduction stems from the year 803 in the continent of Magvel to the Bernese Campaign led by the nefarious King Zephiel…_

Morgan's interest peaked and she buried herself in her books. Though she would learn about tactics and maneuvering on large scale wars, she often read the accounts of every famous warrior that took part in the battle. Morgan always imagined every warrior had a unique tale to say and every event had a very important story.

* * *

Walking down the long corridors, Mark often admired Ylisstol Palace's simplicity. There were no portraits of past exalts nor did they mount ornate weaponry as decoration anywhere in the halls. There was nothing to brag about power nor was there anything to exemplify wealth, even within the Exalt's reception chamber. Mark was glad to call this castle home.

Passing through the wall mounted candelabras, paintings of landscapes, and the occasional banner, he ended up in front of a large wooden door at the southern living quarters of the palace. As Mark entered the room, he was pleasantly surprised. Except for the new pink bed-covers on their bed (and he assumed that could have been Maribelle's idea), the room remained exactly as he remembered it. Even his study desk at the corner still had the book he was reading before they left for Origin Peak. He walked over to the table and picked it up. To his dismay, a small layer of dust had settled on it. He blew the layer off, closed it, then looked at the book's spine.

"Pherean and Bernese Culture in Contrast." He chuckled seeing as he now remembered what it was like in Elibe. He set the book down to read later, mainly to see if the book had any inaccuracies. If there were any at all in the book, Mark would attempt to find the author and tar him. He went to the large bookshelf adjacent to his table and to his dismay, a whole shelf of books had been disorganized; a series of tactical strategy books and historical battles were swapped around. What's worse; two books had large ink blots on them.

"Dear, you're doing that rubbery thing again."

Mark turned around and saw his wife already standing next to him. "Gah! Lissa? How did you-?" And his wife reached for his cheeks and pulled on them like bread dough. "Woney, wurb—durr why?"

"Seems like someone's cranky." She raised a brow. "Need a massage?"

Fearing a retaliatory prank for very obvious reasons, Mark passed on the offer.

"Okay, maybe not now. I'm just surprised at the inkblots on two of my books."

"Heeey, those two inkblots were not my fault. You know I don't read your tactical mumbo jumbo." Lissa said rather defensively.

"You mean this 'tactical mumbo jumbo'?" He pulled one of the blotted books out and it was the very first book that Lissa managed to ruin. Mark showed it to his wife with a smirk and she kicked his leg lightly.

"Okay. That I did. The other one, I didn't."

"Don't worry; it's Morgan's version of this book. The one I gave her—"and he paused, struggling to find the right vocabulary. "Err…will give? Gave?" He groaned. "I hate this time travel vocabulary."

"You're such a good dad." She said with an inflection. "Don't you worry dear, you'll have a lot of time to figure out the vocabulary." Lissa giggled and snuggled his arm. Mark blushed for the first time in ages; a sign that their love was still as fiery as their first date.

"Alright, alright. So, I'll assume Morgan had been reading the books in my archives?"

"She already finished all your books, you know." Lissa deadpanned. Mark blinked.

"_All _of them?"

"All of them." She nodded and Mark couldn't help feel proud, albeit slightly jealous. It took him four years to collect and read his entire collection while Morgan finished it in one year. "Except one."

Mark picked up the relatively dusty book. "You mean this book about Elibe?"

"Yep." Lissa walked around the room and sat down on their bed. She tried to bounce around on the mattress. "She wanted you to finish the book before she could read it."

"Ah." Mark remembered that he was gone for a full year. Feeling a little bit guilty, he sat down on his chair. He had to make it up to his daughter somehow. Suddenly, Lissa snapped her fingers and mouthed an "aha". The princess stood up, pulled his arm and dragged him out of the room.

"Whoa, where are we going?" He asked as he was hastily dragged around by his wife.

"C'mon! You might as well give Morgykins the book so she can read it!" Mark then noted the subtle twitch on her nose. Lissa had an idea although Mark thought she had another elaborate scheme.

"Lissa, this won't be simple as I think it should be, will it?" He asked, raising his brow. She giggled and winked.

"Heh-he."

* * *

Already half way through the book, Morgan couldn't help be fascinated at all the information and biographies before her. Despite the book being strictly focused on strategy that she already knew (Her father taught her most of these strategies during Valm and had firsthand experience with it), she was entranced at the little tidbits about the famous soldiers. She noted the supporting role Neimi did for the thief Colm during the War of the Stones and even laughed fact the fact that the Caelin Knights Kent and Sain traveled around the world after destroying the Fire Dragon and that oftentimes, Sain would restrain Kent from intermingling with the village women.

From the lore, she also noted that there were many valiant sacrifices to ensure absolute victory. Most notably for Morgan, the sacrifice of King Fado during the fall of Renais. The king, she read, was the father of the royal twins Eirika and Ephraim. And only through his sacrifice at Castle Renais by stalling Emperor Vigarde's forces did the twins survive in order to finish the ordeal of defeating the Grado and the Demon King. She tried to flip the page and finish the book but couldn't bring herself to do it. Not again, she thought.

Father. That was a really big word when she thought about it. Morgan could not help but think about her own father's sacrifice. Though she fully understood his decision, like Chrom, she wished he didn't. Whenever she read books, she felt empty. She never really got used to her father being gone for a long time—never in the time she came from. She remembered that her father often read her books and engaged in games of chess and logic. Even when she traveled back in time, her father entertained her in the exact same way. And she was genuinely happy. Hopefully, she thought, when he returns she can finally beat him at any game. Though honestly, she just wanted her him to come back.

In the end, she never completed the book. As she set the book away, her ears caught wind of creaking wood and footsteps. Worried about the bookkeeper coming in, she shrouded herself with the hood of her cloak.

"O wise Grandmaster, how fares your knowledge absorption?" The tactician looked behind her and was met with Owain's very loud theatrics. A look of fear appeared on Morgan's face. "Wh—?"

"Shhhhhhh!" She jumped from her seat, covering his mouth with her palm. Owain pleaded, rather unsuccessfully, to get her hands off his mouth through muffled speech. "Do you want Priscilla to rag on you?"

Owain, having experienced the bookkeep's wrath personally, relented and pulled a chair next to Morgan. He looked at the stack of unread books before him. He counted at least fifteen and wondered how his sister could read so many books in one sitting. Understanding her routine, Morgan would have left the palace two hours ago. Usually, he found her already half-way done with these books everytime he visited. Something was off.

"You've barely started on your books, dearest sister." He began his theatrical whispering, earning a giggle from Morgan. "What's the matter?"

"You're beginning to sound a lot like Mom." Morgan turned her chair to face her brother, ignoring the stack of books for the time being. Even so, Morgan didn't want to alert or worry her older brother.

"Well, what can I say? I'm always caring for my youngest sister!" Owain poised himself, chest out.

"And I take care of you and your gurgly, baby self!" She giggled and her brother sighed, the latter smacking his forehead with his surprisingly calm sword hand. Morgan then tapped her chin with her finger inquisitively. "I still wonder if he'll grow up to have your twitchy sword hand."

"Why my hand is insatiable even as an in—Hey! Don't stray off subject Morgan." Owain suddenly looked incredibly serious, contrary to his usual self. Morgan raised a brow, although he was right about her changing the subject. "Thinking about father again?"

Caught red handed and unwilling to hide anything from him, she sighed. "Uh-huh."

"You know he'll be back soon."

"Do you think he'll actually be back?"

"Definitely." Owain began. Morgan rested her cheeks on her palms and Owain patted her shoulder. "Just remember what Naga said. As long as we know that he's in our hearts and keep our bonds strong, he'll return!"

Morgan perked up. "Wow! That was really profound and deep!" Owain looked at her confusingly. "The lack of theatrics made it kind of weird but hey, it works!"

Owain gawked but eventually his face of disdain gave way to a kind smile. "Remember what father always said."

"I know, I know." Morgan sighed. "Dang invisible bond-link thing better work soon, though. I've been reading his entire archive for the past year. I think I can beat him now!"

Owain couldn't help but smile at her sister's impatience. It wasn't hard to read Morgan, Owain thought. Under her very bubbly personality, he knew that Morgan was the most affected by her father's sacrifice. Thankfully, today was sure as hell better than the first few weeks after Grima's fall. During the past year, Morgan and himself expected their father to return to the castle after just a few weeks. Yet after every passing day he didn't return, the two siblings eventually came accept that their father may not come back. Sometimes, he would get so frustrated; it's as if Morgan didn't acknowledge that he was hurting as much as her.

Owain often remembered when his father disappeared after saving his life from a Risen attack in the future that no longer existed and he felt that exact same guilt when Mark struck Grima down. But unlike wallowing in guilt like before, Owain swore to be stronger than his past self. In the months that passed, Owain did whatever he could to keep his family as energetic as it was. When Morgan refused to go out of her room, he was the one that convinced her to get out and go to town with him. Her logical thinking always gave way to negative thoughts and it was his job as her brother to bring her out of it. When her mother felt down, he often crafted theatrics with Inigo and a reluctant Gerome that often brought a tear and a smile on Lissa's face (including any spectators that came by). This was the time when Owain had to go back to the role of "man of the house", as Mark had told him long ago.

"You will." He patted her sister's shoulder and embraced her. Morgan felt the strength of Owain's hug and it reminded her that she wasn't alone. He smiled at her and resumed his theatrics. "Now come, Grandmaster of the Justice Cabal, you must satisfy your heroic genius in order to beat our father on his triumphant return! Tally, I shall aid you in reading as well, fair sister!"

Morgan, finally feeling a lot better after her brother's speech, hurriedly stood up and shouted.

"By Filla's Might I shall, O dearest brother of mine—" Owain quickly stood and covered his sister's mouth with his hand. Morgan pleaded, rather unsuccessfully, to get his hands off her mouth through muffled speech.

"Do you want Priscilla to rag on you too?" Having also experienced the wrath of the bookkeep, Morgan hushed and returned to finishing the very first book with Owain encouraging her.

* * *

"There she is! Oh, Owain's here too! Perfect."

"Honey, I don't think—**DAAAAH**! **YEOWCH**! GODS LISSA—**OW!**!"

"Shush! Stop your chatting and go with the plan, chump! You'll ruin the surprise!"

"Gah! My foot hurts, woman! What do you have for heels, Hauteclere?!"

"Think of this as payback for blowing yourself up with a dragon. Now wear this mask and hold the chessboard."

"Ugh—wait, this mask…is it a cat?"

* * *

The moment the exalted siblings heard creaking wood, they froze in fear. They felt the wrath of the bookkeeper was upon them and they braced for the aftermath.

"Graah!" Owain began with his hand trembling. "My hand! It hungers in apology! I bid your mercy—mother?"

"Mom?"

"Hey guys." Lissa whispered to the two. The siblings sighed in relief as their mother walked in, completely oblivious to their reactions. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Analyzing these strategy books." Morgan said as she closed the text in front of her. "It's pretty interesting how the Caelin knights were so opposite in person!"

"Well, look at Sully and Stahl. They're pretty much the opposite." Lissa added. "Oh! By the way, I met this very interesting man on my way here and I think he's pretty good with strategy and whatnot. He'll give you a run for your gold, Morgan!"

Morgan looked at her with surprise. A man with good strategy? Recalling from the past year, her Uncle Chrom sent tactical minds all over Ylisse to tutor her in his father's absence but in the end Morgan was the one that taught the scholars. And she was pretty proud about it, too. Owain raised an eyebrow. Did his mother just find a new man similar to their father? He felt uncomfortable with his mother bringing in some random stranger. On cue, his sword hand began to tremble.

"Grrah!" He held his right hand by the wrist, as if fighting a serpent. "Stay, my benevolent sword hand! My blood boils, Mother! Is this man within proximity?!"

"Right you are, mister!" Lissa ignored most of her son's theatrics, turned her head to the bookshelf and beckoned the mysterious man to come. "C'mon don't be shy! Meet my kids, Owain and Morgan."

_I don't think this is gonna work, dear..._

And from the bookcase, a man in a Grimleal coat with a fox mask limped his way towards them, holding a chessboard on his right hand like a tome. He waved once and the two children sat there rather shell-shocked at the oddity. It set off sparkles of curiosity in Morgan's eyes and made Owain speechless. Mark, under the mask, couldn't help but smile.

_Wow, they…haven't changed that much._

"So mom, how can this person teach me tactics?" Morgan asked on the side, eyeing the strange man.

"Don't worry, Morgykins. Trust your mommy." And the mysterious man grabbed a chair, and pulled out a dainty chessboard. The board itself was worn down, the black squares faded from years of use. Chunks of wood were missing from the edges and the pieces weren't all too pristine either. Yet, Morgan felt a strange sense of familiarity of the chessboard and the man's cloak but she didn't give it much attention. Learning something had to be prioritized. Lissa began to move the books from her daughter's desk but realized the books were incredibly heavy. Owain helped her mother as the masked man and Morgan began setting up for their next game. The sheepish tactician thought the man was mute as he didn't speak at all.

_By Naga, how on earth is this working?_

And their game began. Morgan's first move was her pawn moving two tiles forward. The man retaliated with a moving his pawn adjacent to hers one space. Morgan immediately knew the man began to set up for a very fast checkmate and thought that was rather amateurish. Instead, the man moved more of his pawns and followed up on her subsequent moves with his bishop. Morgan moved her bishop and the man moved his own. The man seemed to read Morgan's move but the girl outpaced him, reading his reads and responding properly. As the match went on and no pieces taken on either side, Owain and Lissa grew rather bored; neither of the two really loved chess.

And then the game stopped and Morgan became perplexed. There were no moves left for her and for her opponent. There were no pieces taken by either side as well. The game ended up at no conclusion.

"Ooh! A stalemate, right?" Lissa looked over, after seeing the game finally come to a stop. Her brother was, not surprisingly, hunched over her books, almost asleep. Lissa smacked her son's arm and shook him back to life.

"I'm awake, mother…" He said dazed. Ignoring her brother for that moment, Morgan shook her head.

"If this was an official match, Mother, I think one of us had to relent." She looked at the man in front of her and smiled, admiring his ability to force a draw. "One more match, mister?"

The masked man nodded and the two began to reset the board. As the two continued their chess match, Lissa watched the events unfold before her. The plan was working well, although a bit too well. She kept forgetting one simple fact when it involved her husband, daughter and Chess: Morgan doesn't stop until she wins. Game after game, Morgan raised the stakes from "best of three" to "next game wins". As neither of the two can ever get any captures, every game ended in a draw. To Mark's amusement, the fact that his wife and son were already hunched over sleeping on the desk, was nothing short of adorable in his eyes.

Finally, after being sidetracked by his wife and son, Mark made a careless move that led Morgan to move her queen next to his king.

"Checkmate!" She said with a grin plastered on her face. Like a morning trumpet at the barracks, Owain and Lissa woke up after Morgan's cry.

"W-Wow!" Lissa tried to stifle a yawn. "How many games was that?"

"Fifteen games." She said cheerily. "It was hard but hey I did it! But…I still don't understand how this could teach me tactics and all."

Before Lissa could speak, the masked man waved his finger and held out his hand for a handshake. Morgan shook his hand and the man bowed, a Ylissean custom for acknowledging a person's skills. Then, the man pulled out a book. At first, Morgan accepted the gift, thinking the book was just another strategy book.

"It's a simple reward." The masked man suddenly said, alerting the two siblings. His voice muffled by the mask, rendering it unrecognizable. "I'm here to test your knowledge and it seems you've surpassed me."

Morgan, humbled by the man's words, blushed. "Oh, I don't think I have. A chess match is not where you figure out someone's knowledge and prowess from."

"Maybe so, but you did lack one thing."

She looked at him straight in the eye. "What would that be?"

"Re-experiencing past events." Morgan then became a bit confused. What did he mean by "past events"? She fiddled with the book she received and felt the bumps of the book, hoping to find the answer. But as she felt the book on her hands, it became very clear. The dented corner, the blue paperback frame, everything. It was the book on her father's desk.

"Wait…how did you get this book?" She asked, alarmed. Who would touch her father's things? Could it be her mother's plot? It frustrated her that someone would disturb her father's things. "Did you steal it?"

"No." And the masked man began to remove the mask from his face. "I was just—ah there we go—going to give this to you as a present. You might as well finish my entire collection, right?" With the mask on the desk, the two siblings couldn't believe their eyes. They knew it wasn't a mirage. Only their father would go to great lengths to do this scheme. "I've got so many things to tell you—" And without a second to spare, Morgan jumped from her chair and into her father's arms, knocking down the chessboard off the table and Mark into the ground.

Just like her mother, her shoulders shook and she clung to her father's robe. "Father…Father…Father! I missed you!" She said in between sobs. Mark brought himself up.

"I missed you too." He said as he stroked her head. He looked at Owain and smiled. The latter began to sniffle and sob. "Owain, are you crying? C'mere you lug you."

"I'm fine! I'm n-not crying!" He said, his arm blocking his eyes, soaking up the tears that were actually flowing.

"C'mon kiddo, it's okay. Usually you break into some sort of complex theatrics."

"Behold! Like a whetstone of hope," He began strongly, but in the end, the fact that his father returned didn't even give him a chance to hold back tears. "You have defied the gods t-to accompany us...to stay... of...of... Baaaaaah!" And he crashed into his father's chest, just like Morgan.

"Owain…hugging…tight…gods…ribs." He choked out with a rather pained expression on his face. As he held his two children tight as they cried, he endured the crushing hugs they gave. He knew that he deserved it. Lissa approached him from behind and wrapped her hands around him.

"Dear, I have no idea how you made this work. Your plan did not have any sort of tactical knowledge." He whispered to her. She snickered.

"Because family doesn't need tactical doodads to work, silly."

After one full year, husband and wife shared a short, yet long overdue kiss.

* * *

"Was Priscilla working today?"

"Thank the gods no."

* * *

**Author's Note:**  
I also wrote two versions of this again. They had the same idea except the scenes were much different, but the same premise goes. I'm going to focus on less drama because it's all over now. We're beyond that point after this premonition chapter and I'm going to focus on the whole "Life after Grima" thing. I have two paralogue chapters on standby and the first two chapters on the drafts. Now, this is a big transition for me from all out drama/minor comedy to drama/comedy. I'll do my best to keep everything in check and still do my best to keep it Mark/Lissa-centric but I will go to the children's perspectives often as well.

Also if you notice from the thing where I said Sain and Kent were reversed, it was an on-purpose thing. Remember Mark hates inaccuracies in books and transdimensional literature can be pretty innacurate.

Okay. I'm going to explain the delay. Number one, work was terrible the past two weeks and my team and I were bogged down with design flaws and complaints from manufacturing. Monday was just terrible, I had to ask my neighbor to babysit for me until I came back (and I didn't come back until 12:30am!).

Secondly, my daughter just took her first steps! Oh gods, it was one of the most defining moments of my life and I have my first film that I can use on a montage when she's older.

I'll keep the A/N's shorter and stop pelting you with words! Hope you enjoy and review!


	4. Good Morning!

Read and Enjoy!

Synopsis: "Today was the day I realized my mother, Lissa, hated early mornings. Well, I do too. Kind of. Maybe. Well, that's not important. Somehow, in this relatively normal spring day, my parents would discover that raising a toddler-to-be was going to be more work than ever before. And as my dad always said, 'This can't be solved by strategy. At all.' Now where did my little brother go?"

* * *

Chapter One: Good Morning!

Despite all the knowledge Mark had in his head, he could never describe the sensation of waking up. Regardless, he knew one thing: it always felt great. Waking up to feel his arms wrapped around his beloved wife, feeling the strands of her blonde hair tickling the tip of his nose and hearing her slight snore was beyond words.

Opening his eyes, he saw it was dawn but not quite. The night sky was a fading palette of black to blue alongside a still bright crescent moon. Even so, it was time to get up. As Ylisse's Grandmaster, he still had a job to do; even this early in the morning. Slowly and carefully, he pulled his arms off his wife or she would wake up in a terrible rage. He heard her mutter something but it came as inaudible. Nevertheless, he leaned over and kissed her cheek and crawled out of their bed under the Maribelle-inspired covers.

He walked over to his desk and donned his trademark cloak over his nightwear. An idea crossed his mind.

_Maybe I should bring him with me to my workplace…father-son time. Yeah! That's what I'll do._

He walked to the wooden crib that held their son. Every glimpse, he was still bewildered at the fact that he was a father already. They were still very young; his wife being only in her early twenties and himself as old as Chrom when they first met. Meeting Lissa, marrying her, and having her bear their child felt all so fast but all so worth it. He found it funny that his son was by definition Plegian, being born at Origin Peak. The irony of it all is that he is of Exalted blood.

Looking into the crib, the color of his face drained and his eyes shot open. The baby was gone.

Except, he wasn't worried about kidnapping or any of the sort. No. Rather he was more concerned where his baby ended up at. Didn't he just make the crib climb-proof? He noticed stacked pillows on the crib's side and their door creaking back and forth. A feeling of dread came over him; who knows what kind of trouble their child could get into. And he let of a heavy sigh; his son was crawling around the castle.

"H-honey…"

Again.

* * *

Before the crack of dawn, Ylisstol Palace began to bustle and roar with life.

From the meaty vapor of stocks and the scent of freshly cut vegetables, the kitchen's aroma was nothing short of defining Ylisstol Castle as home for everyone. The cooks and head chefs began to prepare the first meals of the day, not just for the royal family but for all the castle workers and staff. At everyone's surprise, Chrom requested that the castle workers and the overnight guards get the first meal. And everyone was jubilant at the kindness their exalt had offered.

On the castle's southwestern ward, Frederick the Wary and Sully began training recruits for the Royal Guard alongside new Shepherd initiates. Whether they wielded wooden axes, lances or swords, the two lead Shepherd members often thought of new ways to train their recruits. The two often began the regimen by saying that just because the threat of the Fell Dragon was gone didn't mean that Ylisse can soften up. The pained groans from the recruits often amplified the intensity of the exercises that the new Knight Captain and Red Paladin thought of giving. At times the Knight Captain's wife, Panne would come and visit with their son Yarne to observe what she called "man-spawn play fighting"; the former would always flinch at the sound of weapons breaking. Fortunately, that slight comedy of mother-doting-on-son gave the soldiers a short, but well-deserved laugh and motivation.

At the opposite ward, Chrom began his daily training regimen by setting up training dummies with Falchion at hand. He prayed to Naga that, hopefully, none of these new training dummies that Frederick had bought would break.

Yet at the western corridor, a certain tactician-in-training wouldn't have to worry about training or anything. After all, it was still too early.

Morgan kicked and turned on her bed, feeling uncomfortably warm under her sheets. Instinctively, she crumpled the intricately designed fabric into a jumbled, wrinkled mess and kicked it to the foot of her bed. Oddly enough, the spring months were unusually cold that year. With her very heavy twisting and turning, it came as a surprise that Morgan was actually smiling with her mouth wide open, drooling.

It was the perfect sign of a girl indulging in a good dream.

"Ehehe….hubba hubba…" She mumbled and giggled. Then she snored. Unfortunately, her snoring stirred a baby awake who used her outstretched right arm as a pillow. Now awake, Owain blinked. It was dark and all he could see were the outlines of the room. He blinked twice and his eyes adapted. He tried to stand up but the softness of the bed threw him off balance and onto the Morgan's belly. Thankfully, the boy was light and Morgan was unfazed by the extra weight on her.

"Oh…not there…" She mumbled and turned to her side. The infant was curious at the sounds she made. He balled his hands into little fists and smacked her sides but she did not wake. Morgan suddenly sprawled on her back again with Owain's leg getting caught under. After pulling it out, he smacked her abdomen. Still no response. With nothing else to do, he crawled on top of her and rested on her chest. He looked at his sleeping sister's face and poked her cheek. According to his baby instincts, things that were soft were to be poked.

_Poke. Poke. Poke._

Morgan did not budge, but simply hugged the infant as if she was holding a stuffed animal.

"Ohoh…you beast…haha—"

And the only thing to do? He put his fingers on her nose and…

_YANK.  
_

* * *

The moment Mark told Lissa, her sunken eyes shot open, red veins cracked its hazel hue. It was, in his honest opinion, not her prettiest. Mornings were not his wife's favorite. Instinctively concerned of her infant's safety as any mother would, she sat up, grabbed the collar of his coat and shook him.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN _THE BABY'S GONE_?! DIDN'T I TELL YOU TO MAKE THE DAMN THING CLIMB-PROOF?" She yelled, rather viciously; Half-tired and half-frustrated.

"Well, I thought I did! I bought a new one that's at least two hands taller!" Mark then sheepishly lowered his head like Morgan. "H-He used his pillows as some kind of makeshift stairs!"

"Ugh! It's the fifth time this week! How did he even open the door?!" Mark shied away from Lissa's glare and she let his collar go. "Oh no...you forgot to lock it, didn't you."

"Well, I came in late-" And immediately, she placed her finger in between his lips, shutting him up. She sighed, realizing that getting angry at Mark was counterproductive. Although her rage had not completely calmed down; she forcibly turned him to face the door and shoved him.

"No excuses. C'mon, Grandmaster. MOVE IT. We have a baby to find."

Mark, experiencing another parental crisis that week, thought of a simple math equation to describe his early morning that day.

_"Lissa" plus "missing baby" plus "very early morning" equals "not good"._

* * *

"Huh-WAAAAAAH!" Morgan quickly sat up and looked at her window and all she saw was the still dark sky. A horrified look on her face appeared once she caught sight of her mirror. From all the tossing and turning, her short blonde hair became as neat as a griffon's mane. She let off a grumpy groan, fixing her hair would take a while.

Eventually, Morgan's ears caught the raspberries and coos on her lap. She looked down and she saw her "little" brother with an endearing look on his face, upside down from rolling off his sister's chest. The baby, unaware of his sister's frustration, looked at her with his brown eyes and smiled at Morgan's narrow-eyed stare.

"Momo." He said, reaching for her hair. Morgan picked up her brother and cradled him in her arms.

"Owain," she sighed, waving her finger disapprovingly. "Don't pull on big sis' nose okay? Especially if she's having a dream…" and she muttered aside. "…a very _nice_ dream."

The infant's response? Nothing. Regardless, Morgan's sleepiness was blown away by the bundle in front of her. Morgan rubbed her temples and softened her gaze.

"Dawww, how can I be ever mad at you? Not with that face I won't!" She cooed and snuggled the tip of her nose with his, earning a laugh from him. She put her finger on her chin as a thought came across in her head. "C'mon big bro—I mean, little bro? Little big bro? Brother?" And she sighed, rubbing her temples. "Ugh…I'll never get used to this time travelling vocabulary thingy."

With that thought (And it's resulting migraine) Morgan got out of bed and donned her tactician's robe. Though the thought came to change out of her nightwear, she knew it would take too much effort and decided against it. She walked to her study desk, took her fire tome and chanted a tool spell. A small orb of fire appeared on top of her palm and floated away. The orb touched the each candle wick before fading, lighting up the entire room. Owain looked at the orb with wonder.

"Wait, how'd you get here? Oh whatever, let's get you back to Mommy and Daddy, okay?" Morgan put her book back, picked up her brother and walked out of the room. Surprisingly, a familiar face mirrored her actions across the hall.

"Mornin' cuz." Cynthia said with a yawn. Next to her was a very energetic, three year-old Lucina.

"Morning Morgan!" The toddler smiled.

"Cynthia? Lucina? You're up too?" Morgan looked at her and noticed that she was boasting the same hairstyle and accompanying, as she would call it, a "younger older sibling" as well. Cynthia sighed.

"Eeeyups." Beside the blue-haired princess, Lucina tugging on her sister's nightgown, vying for her attention. "Woke up the same way as me?"

"How'd you wake up?"

"Poke to the nose."

"Foot in my mouth." And the two girls laughed.

"Wasn't Owain supposed to be with Aunt Liz and Uncle Mark's room?" Cynthia asked as the two made their way through the hall.

"Yeah." Morgan began to gently swing her cradled brother. "I wonder how he got out of his crib…"

"But they're all the way at the eastern wing."

"Well, let's see if my dad's at his workplace, we can drop him off there."

Lucina tugged on Cynthia's gown. "Cici?"

"Yeah, kiddo?"

Lucina looked at Cynthia with a sleepy gaze. "I'm hungry…"

* * *

Morgan found it strange that there was no soft glow of light from under the door that was Mark's workplace.

"Father? Sorry to bother you and all but—" Morgan peeked her head through the door and saw that the room was surprisingly empty. Except for the stacks upon stacks of paperwork and maps, the Grandmaster's study without the Grandmaster was nothing more than a messy room. "Hmm, Nope."

Cynthia shrugged. "Strange. Usually Uncle Mark's awake at this time. I guess he's still taking a snooze."

Before Morgan could say a word, Lucina's stomach grumbled sharply.

"Cici, I wanna go eat…" Lucina said, tugging repeatedly on her sister's nightgown as they walked the long halls. The pegasus knight crouched and motioned her to get on her back.

"I know, I know. C'mon get on my back." Cynthia began as she stood up, giving the young Lucina a piggyback ride. "Once we drop Owain off at Aunty Liz's room, we'll go grab chow, yeah?"

She stomped impatiently. "But I wanna eat now!"

* * *

"I apologize, Milady." Frederick said as he began storing the training dummies back into the shed. "I don't think I've seen young Owain during our training regimen. If I did, I'd be very surprised at an infant parrying a sword strike."

"It's okay, Frederick. Thanks." Lissa sighed and turned to Mark. "Okay, that rules out this place."

The wooden doors shut and Frederick resumed his proper posture. "If I may be so blunt, what exactly happened?"

"Well," Mark fiddled with his fingers. "Somehow Owain climbed out of his crib and went off somewhere."

"This is quite grave. I'll scramble some of the guards to look for your son."

"Thank you, Frederick." Mark smiled, appreciating the help. "Although, I honestly think he couldn't have gotten too far."

Lissa quickly turned left and began to hastily walk towards a large door. "C'mon Mark, let's check the stables."

"Wait. The stables? That's _outside _the grounds, dear!" And Lissa was already out of earshot. Then he groaned.

_Why couldn't this be simple?_

* * *

Morgan puffed her cheeks. "Great! Mom and Dad aren't at their room either. And I can't just leave him in the crib alone."

"So what do you want to do then? I'm actually getting hungry too…" Cynthia asked, ignoring her own grumbling stomach. Meanwhile, Morgan adjusted her way of carrying Owain.

"I guess we'll just wait for breakfast to be ready."

"But I wanna eat now!" Lucina cut in impatiently, already letting go of her arms around Cynthia's neck, flailing around dangerously. Cynthia immediately sat her down, took hold of the toddler's shoulders and looked her in the eye.

"We can't do that, Lucy. We have to let the others eat first. Do you want to be selfish?"

"But Cici, I'm hungry!" She said again, louder and ignoring her sister's attempt at discipline. And the crown princess sighed. Was her older sister this difficult?

"Hey Lucy," Morgan suggested with a smile, "It's still kind of early. Let's all go to the courtyard and wait for the food to be ready." Lucina shook her head in refusal. "You'll be playing with Owain."

"Big one or little one?" She asked.

"Little one." And the toddler looked at the baby hanging on Morgan's arms. Thankfully, that calmed her down and Cynthia mouthed off a "thank you".

"Okay. But Wainy better learn to walk." Lucina said as she rested her chin on Cynthia's shoulder. "I wanna teach him how to play hide an' go peek!"

* * *

"Didn't you guys just buy a new crib for him?" Chrom said as he wiped the sweat from his brow, stabbing Falchion into the dirt. Lissa dusted herself off, her nightgown already stained with dirt and mud from all the walking she did.

"Well, it wasn't tall enough." Lissa sat down on one of the broken training dummies. "I swear Mark, he inherited his escape strategies from you."

"Hey, I might have most of my memories back but I don't recall climbing out of a crib. My memory only goes so far, too."

The Exalt smirked. "Lissa, remember when Emm said that you _always _climbed out of your crib when you were a child."

Mark raised a brow at the new information and chuckled, earning a soft glare from his wife. Though expecting some sort of retaliation, the fact that she didn't proved that she remembered when she escaped her beds.

"Shush." Her face flashed a light pink and she brushed her hair aside. "He's not here in the western courtyard…where else could he have gotten to?"

"Maybe you should put yourselves in the kid's shoes?" Chrom suggested, also concerned for his nephew's safety. "If you were a curious child, where would you go?"

There was silence between the three. Chrom and Lissa looked at the tactician and he was only able to mutter one word; a mixed look of despair, fear, and absolute panic was pasted on his face.

"Crap."

* * *

**A/N:**  
Aha. I'm not dead. Asleep by Gone2GroundEX actually demotivated me to write because I became too sad. Silly but yeah. That and the fact that I sprained my wrist from gym. Tip: never ever curl 50's when you can barely do 35's. There's pushing to your limits and pushing towards stupidity.

Anyhow, life is just crazy for moi. I'll thank Tsuna4Chs and Strawberry Eggs for helping me with this bloody language. I have a nice outlook on how to properly proofread my stuff. Then again, I wish I knew how this beta-reading things work, so less work for me.

For the time being, I'll be gone for a few weeks since I will be taking my child to Disneyland in California and some visiting of relatives here and there. Father-daughter time. Yeah! That's what I'll do. Other than that, I'll also do a ton of quality inspections of all the chapters I wrote. Because, my beloved readers. I love you all and you deserve better from me.

Anyhow, thanks for all the support and I'll be posting a short, extra Paralogue on July 15th!


	5. Paralogue 1: Surprises

Read and Enjoy!

Synopsis: Sometimes, the best gifts in the world come in the simplest of words and actions.

* * *

Paralogue: Surprise!

"_Owain, dear? Why are you still awake?"_

"_I can't sleep."_

"_Well, c'mon over here and lie down next to mommy. Now what's the matter?"_

"_Mother, I don't want you to leave the palace. You're always out fighting and you're so busy."_

"_I'm so sorry, baby. Mommy has a job to do so she can keep her friends safe and sound! And if my friends are safe and sound, you're safe and sound, too!"_

"_Okay...but promise me you won't leave like father, okay?"_

"…_Okay, sweetie. I promise. Pinky-double-kissie promise."_

* * *

It was an ordinary, summer day. At times, he wished that he knew magic like his mother and father. A wind spell was always appropriate for hot summer days, he thought. He rose from his bed, sword hand throbbing for action. Though honestly, he just slept on his arm; the numbing and the tingling sensation made it feel like it was "throbbing".

After getting dressed and neatly pinning the obi of his robe, he went and reached for his sword, the not-so-apocryphal brand, Mystletainn. After months of continuous persuasion by Lon'qu and his father, Mark, the young man was shattered after realizing that his other sword, now dubbed "Missiletainn", was a hoax. Thankfully, Gaius, a good friend of his father (and can still never understand why he calls his father "Bubbles" as he was neither fat like Excellus nor bubbly like his sister, Morgan) was able to procure the legendary blade through surprisingly normal means.

And Owain panicked. Where in the world was his sword? He can always rule out thieves as it always became his habit to lock his windows and doors. And then he walked to the door and realized, that it was one of those rare occasions that he forgot to lock the doors.

Journeying from wing to wing, he found that his sword was not within sight. It wasn't where he trained nor was it seen by any of the staff. But he was rather alarmed at one thing he discovered; he did not see his mother, father, sister, friends, or _anyone_ in the entire castle save for the staff. Something was definitely strange; the people who knew where his fabled blade was at were gone. And it worried him.

Maybe the blacksmith knew.

"Bloody hell, I don't know where you sword, went sonny."

"What about everyone else?"

"Ah, last I heard was they'd all be gatherin' at the barracks. Now what can I fix you with?"

"Ehh, most of my items have sentimental value…I'll be fine for now." And he walked out, hearing a grunt from the gruff man.

"Boy, isn't he in for a treat. Hrrmph."

* * *

"Guys, he's coming!"

"Everyone, get ready!"

"That was a good idea to take his sword."

"Gawds, how come he didn't come sooner?"

"Mother, how do I use the Flux spells?"

* * *

"Hello? Is anyone here?" He slowly crept around the surprisingly dark barracks. This was strange. Instinctively, he was cautious. He checked the stock rooms and the lobby and found no one there. Maybe they all left for a mission and forgot about him. Once he turned to the corner of the mess hall, he saw things dangling from the roof, but the darkness clouded it. He was rather worried. He felt that he was being watched.

"Hello? Is anyone—DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Everyone yelled as loud as they can, party favors and decorations dotted the entire mess hall. The harmless Flux spells blocking the window lights were finally dispelled and the Scion of Legend was at a loss for words. It was his birthday. And he sincerely forgot about it, more concerned about his sword.

Back in his time, he never really had the chance to celebrate something as simple as a birthday. The constant threat of death and ceaseless fighting never gave him, or any of his friends for that matter, a breather to appreciate something like that.

Everyone began to sing with Kjelle and Severa presenting Owain with Mystletainn with a brand new hilt.

"Here. We got the blacksmith to put your blade together. Severa—" And Kjelle pulled the pigtailed mercenary closer, arms around her neck. "And I here made this hilt just for your sword."

Owain blushed. "Ehe…t-thanks girls."

Before long, Mark, Lissa, Morgan and his infant self came with really good-looking sets of honeycakes from none other than Gaius himself. Chrom, Sumia, Cynthia, the elder and younger Lucina, the Shepherds and some members of the Royal Guard surrounded him and began to sing.

_Happy birthday to you!_

_Happy birthday to you!_

_Happy birthday, dear Owain!_

_Happy birthday to you!_

"Happy birthday, big bro!" Morgan smiled.

His infant self cooed, reaching for him. "Daaa!"

"Happy birthday, dearest nephew!" Chrom patted his shoulder.

"Whoa there, cousin! Happy Birthing day! He-he!" Cynthia giggled.

"Owain, I wish you a good birthday. We never celebrate these things during our time but you truly deserve one."

Severa blushed. "Happy birthday, okay? H-hope you like my gift…HEY, say something like 'your welcome' or something like that…"

"Now we got your gift in order, I'll make sure to ease on the exercises tomorrow, okay?" Kjelle slapped his back.

As his family, friends and his infant self surrounded him with smiling faces and party hats, he walked to the two people that gave him life and gave them a tight hug. Tears began to stream through his face. Though as he bawled in joy, there were no theatrics involved. No intricately improvised monologues. Just a good, steady stream of tears.

"Happy birthday. We love you!" His parents said in tandem and kissed him on his cheeks, their gift to their eldest son.

* * *

"_Look, Owain! A shooting star! You know, a good friend of mine always told me if I look up the sky and see stars that fall, you can make a wish!"_

"_Mother?"_

"_Yes, Owain?"_

"_What do you always wish for?"_

"_What I wish for? Hmm…Well, before I answer that. What do you wish for?"_

"_I want you and everyone to stop fighting and everything to be back to normal again."_

"_You know, you're supposed to make the wish secret."_

"_But I want you to know the secret, mother."_

"_Aww, c'mere you! Let mother give you a good smooch! Owain, as long as you wish for things like that, I'll wish that your wishes always come true. Because if you're happy, mommy and daddy are always happy!"_

* * *

Despite the grim situation his former future had, he always wished for a better future. Hoping for something—anything—to allow everyone to drop their swords and for the fear of annihilation to disappear from their lives forever.

Finally, after all the years of endless fighting and the sacrifices they all made, it finally paid off.

His wish came true.

* * *

**A/N:  
**If I ever have a boy, I will name him Owain. I'm sorry that this was so quick and short and pretty much "drabble" (I think this is drabble, right?).**  
**I managed to rush this during my lunch break. It's July 16th overseas but since most of my readers are on the other side of the world, I'll release it this time. Was I on time? Hope so.

Anyhow, I kept one promise. Now, I'll be back in a few weeks (a month plus one maybe), readers!  
And Happy Birthday, Virtual Son! Your virtual mother and I are so proud of what you've become!


End file.
